


Kiss and Run

by Barkour



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, First Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bolin's not the kind of guy who expects a kiss on the first date. Asami wants a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss and Run

**Author's Note:**

> i hate my life. 
> 
> for the cunnilingus & chocolate day fanfest, specifically [this prompt](http://peripeteia.dreamwidth.org/3531.html?thread=46027#cmt46027) (asami/bolin, on her motorcycle). as asami hasn't shown up yet, i, uh, extrapolated (erroneously, i'm sure) from [the press release's character descriptions](http://www.nickpress-thelegendofkorra.com/characterdescriptions.html). did some of that with bolin, too. if you read this fic later on in the series and think "why in the heck are they so ooc," the answer is i wrote this fic with literally two episodes to work off of.
> 
> i really, really hate my life.

Contrary to popular character references (Mako, old Toza, basically any authority figure currently in his life, pretty much), Bolin wasn't a kiss on the first date kind of guy; never had been. Yeah, all right, so he flirted. That didn't mean anything. Lots of people flirted. Everybody flirted! Maybe Bolin just flirted a little more than most everybody else did. He couldn't help it. It was just how he said hello. 

When it came down to relationship stuff, though, oh, boy: he liked to take it slow. Nice and easy. Let all that tension build up bit by bit till you almost couldn't even breathe for wanting to kiss them so bad, wanting them to kiss you right back. Wow! Nothing like that. Stomach knotted up, throat all thick, hands sticky and mouth dry. Heart bam-bam-bamming away in your chest like it's trying to punch its way right out. Of course, Bolin had only actually kissed five girls in his whole life (five girls to whom he was _not_ related, okay, so enough with the wisecracks) but he figured the basics held true no matter what.

Anyway, so, when Asami pulled up in the little alley behind the arena, Bolin wasn't expecting anything. First date rules. He'd one arm tucked against her belly and the other back, his hand clasped around the bike's fender for balance. Asami liked to take the corners a little fast and he liked to remind her he was still there, thank you very much, could you please try not to kill me. She'd laughed when he shouted that in her ear; he'd felt it more than he'd heard it, her back shivering against his chest. Then she'd throttled the bike and gunned it, and Bolin had fallen against her, curled around her, tightened his arm beneath the soft incline of her breasts. He closed his eyes against the lights of Republic City tearing away from them like shooting stars. The thrum of the bike drowned out the rest of the world. Asami's steady breathing grounded him.

Asami slowed the bike, drifting into a light coast that ended gently. "We're here." She kicked the stand out. 

He loosened his arm. "Thanks for the lift."

She pulled her helmet off; her hair, black and so heavy with curls, tumbled down her neck. She stroked it to one side and glanced back at him over her padded shoulder. The sharp corner of her mouth flipped up.

"No problem. Thank you for escorting me this evening."

Bolin stretched his leg out, rooting himself on the back of the bike. "You know, I still don't get you."

"Oh?" She tipped her head to the side, and that cascade of shining black curls fell down her shoulder. Her eyebrows arched. "What is it you don't get, if I might ask?"

He folded his arms. Maybe she figured he was trying to be cool or to show off his forearms, which, if he did say so himself, were absolutely _fine_ ; he was a good-looking guy. Reality was his heart was doing a weird thing in his chest, like maybe he should've skimped on the fire flakes when the waiter offered to dust the glazed turtleduck with them. He hadn't known what to say. Asami had been smiling at Bolin across the table, a fine web of silver chains dangling from her throat, across her long and bony clavicle. The smooth inside of her wrist flashed as she reached for her drink. He'd said, "Yeah, sure. Love fire flakes! Can't get enough of them."

"I've never eaten anywhere that fancy before," he said.

Her motorcycle jacket hid the necklace. Hid most of her throat, too. The arena was bright, always bright, lit so the bay shone with it, but though the light gleamed in her hair, her hair threw shadows across her face. She was still smiling; then she turned away. She plucked at her jacket, pulling the sleeves straight over her wrists.

"I thought you might enjoy it. Did you?"

"Oh, _yeah_ ," he said. "Great food, the atmosphere was incredible, and of course, what kind of lout could complain about a dinner like that with a girl so pretty?"

Asami glanced up at him. Her eyelashes were thick and dark; her eyes were lidded. The knotting in his chest spread to his gut. Definitely should've passed on the fire flakes. The bay was cool, but Bolin was hot all over. With her hair pulled back to hang across her shoulder, the wide shell of Asami's ear was exposed. She had pretty big ears, truth be told. She had pretty big ears, and Bolin wanted to kiss each of her earlobes, wanted to kiss the rounded tips at the very top of her ears, wanted to--things he'd read about.

"Okay!" said Bolin brightly. He made to get off the bike. "Well, that was fun. I had fun. Did you have fun? Because I had a great time, I really did, and if you're free, at any time, you know, in the future, we should definitely. You know. Do that again. But man, I am just beat, so I'm turning in. I'll see you--"

She caught his popped collar. Pulled off balance, he fell back against the bike. Against Asami. She was tall and bony, hard even with that padded jacket buttoned up her front. He threw his arm out - hand smacking on the bike's seat - caught himself, inches from face-planting into her bosom. His other hand was on her waist. 

Very gently, Asami coiled her fingers in his collar. Her thumbnail, so carefully shaped, scraped his throat. He swallowed, and the edge of her nail dug in so very briefly.

"Please. You can't go in just yet. You never answered my question," she reminded him.

"Question?" 

He was staring at her breasts. That was probably, uh, not--he shouldn't do that. He glanced up. Asami was smiling again, in that way she smiled when she was straddling her bike on the track. Lean. Hard. Like she'd already won.

"What, uh--what question?"

Still clutching his collar tightly, Asami reached across her face with her free hand and tucked her lustrous curls behind that ear. Her fingers slipped through her hair as easily as if she passed her hand through water. The very ends of her curls rasped at his cheek. His hands itched. He curled his fingers. Fingers on the bike. Fingers on her waist. The narrow line of her hip pressed into his palm.

"What about me do you just not get?" Her eyes were wide. At least, as wide as he'd ever seen her eyes go.

"Uh," he said.

She pulled at his collar, drew him up. Drew him up her. The heat in his gut was steady now, pointed inward. He felt swollen with it.

"If you don't mind telling me, that is," she assured him. 

"It's just." He licked his lips. Asami's lashes dripped against her cheeks. "It's just, I don't really get? How you're so polite when you talk to people, but you're also kind of mean? And scary? Like when you're on your bike and you take those corners _way_ too fast, and I'm pretty sure you broke five traffic laws just getting here?"

"That's an awful lot of questions," said Asami. "Perhaps you could narrow it down for me?"

"See? Like that!" He made to stab a finger triumphantly into the air. His hand rose from the seat. His fingertips brushed her arm. He stepped back.

Asami didn't let him. "You _are_ in one piece, aren't you?"

"It was a little close," he said.

"Would you like me to check?"

"Wha--" said Bolin, then Asami rose up from her bike and kissed him. 

He'd kissed five girls. Not, like, all at _once_ , and not just the once each; maybe he wasn't the, the renowned player _certain people_ would like to claim, but he wasn't exactly new to the whole kissing thing. He'd done it with tongues. He was a badass kisser. Nobody had kissed him like Asami kissed him, which wasn't to suggest he did not enjoy previous kisses in his history of kissing or that they were in any way inferior, just that. Nobody had kissed him like that before. Nobody had kissed him.

Her teeth scraped so very, very slowly down his lip. His mouth opened. His breath caught; he made a little noise. Asami chased after that sound. Her teeth were brutal; her tongue, invading. Her kisses were bruises. Her gloved fingers were harsh on his nape, in his hair, tugging and digging in in equal turns. 

Bolin tipped his head back. She was taller than him by some few, odd inches, but the bike was set low. Still, he bent and lifted his face to her. Her tongue filled his mouth. He bit tentatively at it and watched as Asami, watching him, smiled. It wasn't a lean smile. It didn't even tease. It was just a smile. She licked at his teeth and withdrew, pulling his lip out between her teeth.

Unsteady, Bolin ground his hands into the bike on either side of her. Asami carded her padded fingers through his hair one more time, then she pulled back to strip off her gloves. Her breathing was regular. Bolin felt like his heart was going so fast it was about to take off out his mouth.

"I don't usually kiss on the first date," he gasped.

"Come back here," Asami commanded.

He went.

When her jacket came off, well, hey, he didn't mind. He didn't really mind anything right then, not with Asami's fingers pricking his back through his shirt and her knees biting into his ribs. He nuzzled the long side of her nose and wound his tongue under hers. Her mouth was so _hot_. He moaned again, pressing closer into the cradle of her legs. Asami laughed. Her hand slipped in the front of his shirt. Her fingers brushed his chest; the nail of her little finger flicked his nipple.

Bolin started. They separated. He felt--slow, punch-drunk, too many hits to the head and he's down, he's down for the count, Bolin is out of here, folks--

Asami's eyes were dark in her pale face. Her mouth was wet, bruised red. The hand on his chest had gone very still. A mess of curls had fallen across her cheek; she did not dissuade them from their course. The end of one only just brushed the corner of her mouth.

"If you don't want to," she said.

"No, it's," he said. "It's not that. It's." His tongue dried up.

The silver web of chains had been knocked askew. Her low-cut tunic stretched across her breasts, her small breasts, her hard breasts that rose tremulously in accordance with her breath even as she stared steadily at him. Her thumb stroked down his pectorals, tracing the shape of it. Under her hand, his heart beat and beat.

"If you're concerned about me," she said, "don't be. I want to."

"I've never," he said.

"Never?" she prompted him. Then Asami's face went long. Her mouth fell open. "You've _never_?"

Bolin flushed. He felt it rising up his throat, into his face. "Yeah, yeah, so I've never--you know--" She probably thought he was funny, little kid playing at, at dating like he had the first idea what he was doing. _Would you like fire flakes_?

Asami didn't laugh. Her legs slid up his sides, framing him; she had to bend a ways to fit his torso. Her ankles hooked at his back. The heels of her boots thumped together.

"But you do want to," she said.

She'd pulled him near. Bolin licked at his lips again. His mouth was so dry. His skin was so hot. He felt like his legs were filled with sand. He ached so badly, like-- Like--

Her hair swallowed the light. Asami's fingers were cool on his chest. Carefully, she flattened them and spread them across the breadth of his pectorals, her palm pressing over his nipple. Her lashes flickered. She looked down, to her hand on his breast, and then up again to him.

"I do," he said. The words stuck on his teeth. He swallowed. Again, he said, "I do. W-want you."

Her legs tightened around his ribs. Asami slung her arm around his neck and pulled him down. Nice and easy. Ha! Asami kissed like she drove: hard and fast, full throttle, no room for mercy. That was the thing he hadn't understood about her. How she could be so polite and well-mannered and--and _high class_ , and then not give a shit what the law had to say about how she drove. How she could want somebody who'd lived most of his life on the streets.

She sucked on his tongue, dragging at the tip till his shoulders bent and he gave in. Asami's mouth was hot, slick, her teeth a series of neat hazards; she nipped his tongue twice then flicked her tongue over the bites. Hot sand in his head. Her fingernails dug into his scalp. Bolin groaned and ran his hands up her back then down again. Her silk tunic rucked. On the next pass, his fingers slipped under the hem. He hadn't meant to do that. Her back was as smooth and narrow as the rest of her. Panic bubbled inside him.

Then Asami pulled his shirt open down to his waist with a practiced jerk of her wrists. She'd undone the clasps when he was busy not thinking anything; now, she exposed his chest to the late summer air. His shirt hung from his shoulders. Asami bit her lower lip and smiled. Her eyelashes obscured her dark, dark eyes. She slid her fingers from his hair and cupped his right shoulder; she cupped his left shoulder. The muscles there tightened.

Bolin rested his hands on her thighs, parted about him. He kissed her. He kissed her softly, his lips turned just barely out. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She was very beautiful; that wasn't why he kissed her. Desire was the thing that made his legs heavy, his head thick, his breath coarse in his throat. That wasn't why either. He kissed her because she'd laughed and accelerated when he told her to mind the corners.

"You're smiling," Asami whispered. "Why?"

"You're smiling, too," Bolin whispered back. "And anyway, I always smile."

Asami let off his shoulder. She traced his cheek with one finger. "I know. That's why I like you." The ever present, cool edge in her voice tempered.

Her thighs were strong and lean under his hands. He rubbed his thumb up the line of muscle on the inside of her thigh.

"Can I--" He rolled his lips in.

"That depends," said Asami slyly.

"It's kind of embarrassing," he said.

Asami touched her fingernail to his lower lip. "I won't kiss and tell."

Bolin grinned. Asami's eyes crinkled. He reached up to--to cup her face, he guessed, but instead he brushed her hair back from her ear. An opalescent drop hung from the lobe, strung on a silver wire through her ear. The passing of his hand sent the earring swinging.

"Can I kiss your ear?"

Asami laughed again. Her eyes closed. Her teeth flashed. Her laugh thrummed through him. The hand at his shoulder tightened, her fingers clutching at the joint.

"What?" He was laughing, too. "I told you it was embarrassing."

"It's not embarrassing," Asami said. "Embarrassing is if you'd asked if you could lick it."

"Please," said Bolin, still smiling. He shrugged. "I figured I'd save that for the second date."

"I give you permission to kiss my ear," Asami said seriously.

He leaned forward. Her breath whispered across his cheek, against his throat. His chest was tight, his gut tight, too. He kissed that exposed earlobe very lightly. The earring beat against his chin. Asami bore his kiss well: she turned, just so, and kissed his ear, too. Bolin--

"Are you giggling?" she whispered.

"No!" said Bolin. "I was _chuckling_."

"It was cute," said Asami. 

She stroked her fingernail down his throat. Her fingertip scraped his wide collarbone. Asami leaned down to him. She kissed his jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth, the other corner. He closed his eyes as she spattered kisses across his face, her lips thin, her teeth ever near.

"What do you want me to do?"

Asami paused. Her lips were on his eyelid.

"What do you mean?"

His eyes opened. A curl hovered at the corner of her eye. Her earrings hung by her jaw. His fingers worked on her thighs.

"Well," he said, "I've never--you know, done this before. So. What do you want me to do? For you?"

Asami did not move for a moment. Her eyes were wide, truly now. The bay was bright with moonlight. The sky was bright with Republic City.

"This is your first time," she said.

"Right," he said, "but see, I really, _really_ like you--"

He kissed her sharp chin. 

"I like you, too," said Asami quietly.

"And that's why," he said.

Asami breathed out through her nose. Maybe a sigh. Maybe not.

"So tell me," he said, and his voice didn't catch even a little. (Okay. It caught a little.) "What do you like?"

The corner of her mouth flickered. 

She told him.

Bolin knelt, knees thumping down to the pavement. He fumbled the little brass buttons on her trousers; he fumbled the laces, too. Asami said, "If you'd like, I could do that," and Bolin said, "Please. Like some buttons are going to beat _Bolin_." One of them popped off in his hand. Asami shook on the bike, the back of her wrist pushed to her mouth.

"I think this is yours," he said sheepishly.

Asami pocketed the button and straightened. "Let me," she said. She swept his hands and protests away and neatly undid buttons and stays. Bolin's heart had stuck in his throat. Oh, man, he didn't know _what_ he was doing. But how hard could it be? Nice and easy. Nice and easy. Asami shook her hair back over her shoulder. She was effortlessly graceful, even lounging on her bike with her legs spread before him. Something sweet unfurled in his chest.

"You're _wonderful_ ," he said feelingly.

"Thank you," said Asami. She smiled. "You're not so bad yourself."

He hooked his thumbs in her trousers and pulled. Her hips rose. Underthings, too. Right. He could do that. Black curls there, too. When Asami settled back on the bike she grunted and said, "Oh. That's not very comfortable."

"I've never done this before?" Bolin said.

"You said so, yes," said Asami.

"So, uh, I guess just tell me if I'm doing something wrong," he said.

"It's not very hard," she told him, and Bolin snorted. Yeah, _right_. If he got any--well, anyway, he'd probably pass out. Asami shifted on her bike. Her pale thighs flashed, trousers pinning her knees. He refocused.

"Well, if you've got any tips..."

Asami dropped a hand between her legs. Okay, wow, turned out he didn't pass out after all, but it was a close thing. Her fingernails parted the little curls there. Bolin swallowed again. 

"Here," she said. Her first finger settled, nail just touching a fleshy nub at the apex of--of her-- 

Her folds were a dark pink, and slick. He lifted his hand. Hesitated. No idea what he was doing, what if he messed it up-- Come on, Bolin. Get it together. Get your head in the game, buddy.

He replaced her finger with his thumb. Experimentally he flipped that nub. "So, what, do I just--touch it?"

"Touch it," she said casually. "Lick it. Bite it, if you'd like, but be gentle."

He was flushing again. Asami stroked her fingers through his hair, nails just barely scratching his scalp. 

"You don't have to do it," she said, "if you don't want to."

"I want to," he said. He did. He did. So:

Okay. All right. He could do this. He was the man. He was Bolin. Rubbing at the fleshy nub once, twice, again, he turned his face up to her.

What had he expected? He hadn't really expected anything. She tasted--tangy, a little bitter. Like wine, kind of. Bolin ran his tongue up between her folds, tasting, and breathed in. Faintly sweet-smelling. He took another whiff, pressing closer. His thumb worried her nub as he explored.

"You don't have to be so careful," Asami said.

"I don't really have a whole lot of experience with this," he muttered.

"You aren't having second thoughts, are you?" Mock-concern sweetened her voice, but her fingers in his hair fluttered.

"Hey," Bolin said. "You just sit tight, pretty lady. Bolin's gonna rock your world."

Asami stroked his cheek with her thumb. The shadow her hair cast across her down-turned face nearly hid her smile. That was a challenge if he'd ever seen one. Bolin reapplied himself with the same determination and vigor that had earned him the press' adulation with regards to pro-bending (not other stuff, not _this_ stuff).

The taste wasn't so bad; he liked it, actually, the bittersweet tang of it and the heady, pungent scent of her as he nuzzled into her folds. The skin there was slicked, and his tongue slid easily down the course of her. Her fingers pulled at his hair. So, faster. He could adjust. He turned the long strokes to quicker, shallow flicks; then, riding an instinct, he nipped at her.

Asami gasped. Her thighs jumped. Bolin grinned and did it again. Teeth, quick, hard: okay. He could do that. He sucked at her, chasing the slick down to some little, tight opening. Asami's hand settled over his, pressing his palm to the nub. He took the cue and pinched it, pulling it as he pushed his tongue to that wet opening.

Her breath came faster. He felt it in the minute trembling of her thighs. Bolin looked up the length of her, up her hand fluttering over his wrist, up the rumpled expanse of her tunic, parted nearly to her breasts. She'd bit her lower lip; her teeth strained the skin. A heat showed in her throat, the pale skin of her cheeks. Asami's eyes were closed. She took a breath and let it out; when she breathed out, she did so in a quiet moan. He scraped his fingernail over that sensitive nub and dug his tongue in deeper.

Her fingers crawled through his hair and tightened. That flexing in her shoulders, the tight, hard set of her jaw: he'd done that. The thought was electric. The _taste_ of her was thick in his mouth, and each twist of his fingers around her clit wrung another shudder from her. 

"Harder," Asami said in a throbbing voice.

He could do harder. No problem. Bolin licked one more long, slow stripe up her folds, then he switched hand for mouth and mouth for hand. His fingertip pressed into her. He bit onto her clit. Asami gasped.

It was the gasp that did it. Bolin pushed his finger in to the first knuckle, the second, and reached down with his other hand to cup his aching, swollen erection. His hips jerked; he pushed against his palm. Bolin moaned around Asami. She tightened about him, thighs, but more, too. His finger was pinched.

"Another," she said breathlessly.

He rubbed at his dick - harder not to - and glanced up again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said. That lean look was back. That hungry look, like she wanted to eat up the track.

He gave her another. Her fingertips flickered over his face. She guided him to her again. Clit. Right. He latched onto that and ground his fingers inside her. Ground his hips into his hand, too. She was shivering. Long legs winding about his shoulders. Her face tipping forward. Hair spilling over her shoulders. Her earrings flashed. Bolin scraped his fingers inside her. Scraped his teeth over her. Another soft gasp fell out from her throat.

She tightened explosively around him; her left knee knocked his head. Asami swore. Around his fingers, a sudden wetness. Her nails scratched his scalp. She swore again. Bolin pulled at her clit with lips, teeth, tongue. The heat in his skin, in his gut, was rising higher still. He twisted his fingers inside her, liking the way she tightened all over, how her teeth showed between her lips. 

"Told you," he groaned.

"Don't--get ahead of yourself," she gasped. Her knee dropped. He'd a moment to wonder.

Then her boot pressed very deliberately on his hand, the leather toe pushing his palm flat against his cock. Bolin said, "Ah! Wait!" and then he buried his face in her dark curls and came. 

Came in his _pants_. His pants that Mako _washed_. This realization trickled slowly in.

"Well," said Asami from somewhere above him. She petted his head, her fingers nearly gentle as she stroked them through his hair. "I suppose I should thank you. Thank you."

"Some first date," he mumbled to the soft crease of her thigh. "I'm not really this easy..."

"Get back up here, please," said Asami. She yanked at his hair. "I want to kiss you again. Thank you."

He staggered up from his knees and fell against her. Asami wound her arms around him and held him as she licked at his teeth.

"What're we gonna do on the second date?" he managed. He chased her tongue.

"Mmm." Asami nuzzled him. "We could always cuddle."

"Maybe hold hands," said Bolin. 

Her lips curved against his. He felt her eyelashes brush his cheek. Dreamily, he reached up to cup her ear.

"It's a date," said Asami.


End file.
